Silfea
by Annaicuru
Summary: The third and final story in the 'Mithmir' trilogy. Mithmir is finally going back to her home to visit her old friends before she gets married... But things can't be all that simple. R
1. RainSwept Meetings

This is the third story in the '**Mithmír**' trilogy.  It follows '**The Daughter Of Elves And Men**' and '**All Rivers Flow To The Sea**', to be read in that order.  I'd be grateful if you could click on my username above and go and give them a look!  This story will make _very _little sense if you haven't read those ones first.  There is also a work-in-progress short story related to this one, '**Elven Dúnedain**'.

A lot of people would call this story a Legolas-romance, but I'd prefer to say it is a lot more than that – there's just a character who's in love with, and engaged to, Legolas Thranduilion.

If you've read the others, you will understand this beginning.  If you haven't, I don't think any amount of explaining could make you truly understand it.  So please read the others.

Enjoy and please review!  Constructive criticism is welcomed.

***

The journey changed her.  It was more than a trip to be present for the handfasting of two of her good friends: it was going back to the beginning, returning to her childhood home as a different person from that as which she had set out.  Returning as no longer a child, but a woman.

The traveling between where she had left Legolas and the Golden Wood was easy by the Dúnedain's standards, despite her wearying haste.  She was happy to re-strengthen her bonds of love and comradeship with Brialvastor, and she talked with him often as they journeyed and on any subject that came to mind.  He would listen with the intelligence of all purebred Elvish horses; laying back his ears at talks of orcs and snorting playfully to hear how Mithmír's voice sung with emotion when she spoke of Legolas whom she loved.

It rained all of the day that Mithmír at last approached the borders of Lothlórien.  Her grey cloak became soaked through; and Brialvastor's temper wore thin as quickly as her own till he was nearly un-biddable.  They finally came under the cover of the trees in the late evening, the horse's flanks steaming.  Mithmír pulled down her hood and wiped away those strands of hair which were stuck to her face with the back of her hand.  The pair remained still for a while after that; two sets of dark eyes scanning the wood about them as water dripped from every inch of their forms to the grass below.  It was Mithmír who broke the almost unnatural stillness: she suddenly swung herself out of the saddle, landing neatly beside Brialvastor's neck.  She petted his wet mane comfortingly before deftly removing his saddle and the bags – now mostly empty – which carried all her clothes and provisions.  She laid all of these damp things on the grass, which was dry in the forest, and then whispered something in the stallion's ear.  He snorted and nuzzled her gratefully, bad temper alleviated, before trotting off into the gloom beneath the trees, happy to be free to find food and a place to roll and rest.  Mithmír listened as his hoof beats faded from hearing.

'You're just in time.'  The voice came from behind her, and she did not need to turn – though she did – to know who spoke with such melodic and singular intonation.  Tirathnavir stood there, tall as usual, his bow slung across his back.  He was smiling, and a new bright light was in his eyes.  The shield-maiden recognized it as the one she had saw in the mirror every day since Legolas told her he loved her.

Mithmír ran into his embrace, wrapping her arms about his slim body as he swung her about in joy.

'You've grown,' he told her when he let her down and loosened his grip just a little.  He leant down to place a kiss on her cheek.

'You're to be handfasted!' she parried quickly with a happy laugh.  'Congratulations!  You two are perfect for each other.  I always knew things would turn out this way.'

'Then you knew more than us,' came another voice, just as Haldir's arms wrapped about her from behind, and Tirathnavir in front of her also.  'I did not dare to hope until we first kissed.'

'Which was an accident of the best kind,' added Tirathnavir with a slight chuckle.  'You are finished your watch so early, Haldir?'

'Arbrethil just came to relieve me of my duties,' acknowledged Haldir with a slight nod.  'I asked him to come a little early so I might meet you too, and not have to bear another moment without your company.'  There followed a silence broken only by the sound of a fleeting, chaste kiss of greeting.  Mithmír, being shorter than them and in between the pair, could not see, but the sound was distinctive.  She could imagine the loving look on their faces.

'I'm so happy for you,' she whispered, speaking the absolute truth.  'You have my every blessing.'

'But we should not have the goodwill of your own love, Legolas Thranduilion, if we allowed you to stay in those wet clothes,' said Haldir, stepping back and picking up the discarded saddle and bags as if they were of no weight at all.  'We shall now go back to the room Tirathnavir and I share, and you may change.'

'You know of Legolas?' she was genuinely surprised.

'News travels as quick as flowing water and flying eagle among the Elves,' said Tirathnavir with a slight smile.  He too moved away, and took one bag from Haldir.  He would have taken more but the Marchwarden assured him he could manage.  'We know you are to be married, and we congratulate you on it.  It is hard for us to believe that you have grown up so quickly; and indeed grown into an Elf.'  He beamed knowingly, and Mithmír wondered how long it had been since Haldir and Tirathnavir became more used to talking of "we" than "I".  'It surpasses my eloquence – perhaps even Haldir's – to put into words how proud I am – we are –' he looked fleetingly at his Elven love – 'that you have chosen to which kindred you belong; and yet more that it is our own.'

'Now it is our turn to say "we knew this would be"!' laughed Haldir as the trio began to walk towards the center of the wood.  Contrary to the Haldir that most people knew, who was sullen and rather arrogant, Haldir in the company of friends – as Mithmír knew him, and as he was now – was warm and accommodating, open with feelings and free-handed with shows of affection.

'What other news have I missed?  What tales of the Elves, the wood, of Anoniel?' pressed Mithmír eagerly.

There was a pause, and Haldir and Tirathnavir's eyes met over her head.  It was Tirathnavir who spoke finally, slow and careful, as if choosing his words with the utmost tact.  'We should prefer if we should wait to speak in detail till we reach our room, Lady,' he said simply.

There was silence for the rest of their walk, and a concern grew in Mithmír – for what could they not be happy to tell her in the open that was not bad news?__


	2. Of Things Already Known

I have to make an apology for updating this and 'Just A Child' so slowly.  My life is just too busy to explain at the moment.  But they should be back to normal any time now, and I will try to update as much as I can while life's being so turbulent.

Thanks for the reviews – it's great to know you're all still here!

***

The room of Haldir and Tirathnavir was high up in a mallorn tree, and reminded Mithmír much of her old room – apart from the fact that the bed in the centre of the room was a double, not a single as hers had been.  It was large and spacious, with more windows than walls on the outer two of the walls, and the main theme of colours was the favourite grey of most Lothlórien Elves.  The linen with which the bed was laid with was of that colour, and looked to have been woven of spider webs, it was so fine and light.  On a few low tables were laid Elvish lamps, twinkling blue-lights in an intricate silver holder.  They illuminated the growing gloom well.  From down below carried the sound of Elvish singing, and the name of Elbereth made the air sweet.  Against one wall, that of the entrance way – a mere opening hung over with a thin yet opaque grey curtain – rested two chests, both of craved wood.  Mithmír guessed them to hold the assorted garments of the two lovers.

'Welcome to the room we share,' said Haldir with the utmost courtesy, taking a step in front of her and bowing fluidly.  'We hope you find only comfort and pleasant company here,' he added in the custom of the Elves, 'and may Elbereth Gilthoniel watch over you kindly while you remain within these walls, and wherever you may wander after.'

Mithmír smiled, blushing just a little, and nodded back politely.  'Thank you, Haldir.  You have a lovely place here.'

Haldir smiled, obviously proud despite his stately calm.  'We try.'

Tirathnavir laughed at this, the sound bright and merry, and he moved to stand behind the shorter Elf, wrapping his arms about his love's waist, and addressing Mithmír over Haldir's shoulder.  'He is too modest, this Elf I love,' he said in a mirthful voice, before placing the lightest of kisses on Haldir's cheek.  'His talents and blessings are many, and yet few will he take credit for.'

At this Haldir only smiled.

'Your news first,' Mithmír reminded them promptly.  As much as she was proud of their admittance of their love, and enjoyed seeing them show emotion towards each other, her heart beat hard in her chest as she wondered what they were so slow to tell her.  It seemed to her that they were hiding something, and were unwilling to speak to her of it even yet.

Tirathnavir paused just a little before he smiled this time, and his arms about Haldir may have stiffened just a little.  'You first, Mithmír.  You are wearing a ring you neglected to tell us of.'  He looked to the finger bearing _Tegalu _meaningfully.  'And it's good to see you still wear the bracelet we gave you so many years ago.'

Mithmír was aware that her question was being deflected, but she was willing to talk.  'Why ever would I _not _wear it?  You underestimate how precious it is to me…'  She toyed with _Tegalu _on her finger.  'And Haldir and least knows of this ring, seeing as he has seen it on the Lady's person many a time.  Therefore there is little purpose for me to talk about it.'

'But we wish to know why it came to be given to you,' Haldir prompted when she stopped.'

Mithmír sighed before speaking quickly, 'a wedding gift.  That's all.  And why do you two interrogate me so?  Surely it's my turn to ask some questions.'  She was getting frustrated and worried.  What was it that they wouldn't tell her?  Why did they look almost _nervous_?

'It is a high gift to give to a Half-Elf,' pointed out Tirathnavir softly.

'Is not Mithmír Rochiwen higher than most others, Elven or Men?' pointed out Haldir.  His gaze at Mithmír was intent, too knowing to allow her to be quite comfortable.  'Is she not one of the Dúnedain, and an Aratirith also?'

'Is there nothing of my life or doings since I left here that you do _not _know?' burst out Mithmír suddenly, exasperated and worried.  She hadn't meant to be so rude, but their parrying of all her questions was annoying her incredibly…

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while.  The Elvish singing from down on the forest floor far below became loud in Mithmír's ears, before she finally whispered, 'I'm sorry.  Forgive me.  I did not mean to be so rude…'

Haldir moved away from Tirathnavir's embrace, and drew over a wooden, high-backed chair.  He himself sat on the bed, as did his lover, and they beckoned for Mithmír to take a seat on the chair.  His face was set with a sad look, one of regret at news he must tell.  Tirathnavir did not even turn his face to Mithmír.

'It's about Anoniel…' began Haldir softly.__


	3. Realization Of Loss

As you'll know if you read my various other fics, **nothing **is being updated recently.  Life has just caught up with me, and I have a lot to do.  This means I have very little time to write.  Novemeber is NaNoWriMo month, as well, so that will be hard.  I am trying to, though, hence this chapter – written originally in pencil, while I was on the bus standing up and leaning against a window.  It was 7:45 AM, so forgive any glaring errors :D

Hopefully things should be back to normal soon.  Thanks for all your invaluable support – it really means **so **much to me.

I tried to upload this story ages ago.  I only just realised it didn't… *abashed grin* sorry about that!  I was wondering why none of you were reviewing chapter three…

Please review!

***

'Anoniel?' asked Mithmír very softly.

A little look of sadness formed on the other Elves' faces.  Tirathnavir reached out to clasp his love's hand in comfort, and Mithmír found herself wishing that Legolas was here to support her.  Here to hold her hand through hard times and bad news.

'What?' she asked softly, unaware that her fingers gripped the chair so hard her knuckles were white.  'What's happened to Anoniel?'  She had lost so much already, with her father dead and her mother bound to suicide after her wedding, that she could not believe Ilúvatar would be so cruel as to allow more bad luck to strike her.

'She is not hurt in body,' Haldir assured her quickly.

'And no great injury has come to her soul or mind,' Tirathnavir added in a slower voice, as if he dreaded the words he must speak.  'Though in deed she has suffered sorrow and tears, as have we.'

Dread grew in Mithmír like the spreading of the Black Breath.  'What sorrow?' she asked tentatively.  'Has some terror befallen Imladris?  Is her husband well?'

'It is for the love of her mate Elardil that she is gone.'  Tirathnavir's eyes did not meet Mithmír's, as if he were ashamed or perhaps maybe suffering to much pain to face another person.

'Gone?' the word was bitter in Mithmír's mouth and her eyes stung with tears.  The two Elves on the bed were silent.  She knew they could not bear to speak, and nor could even their eloquent tongues find the right words.  They too had loved Anoniel, and for many centuries more than she.  'The Havens?' she asked when she was able.

Tirathnavir nodded very slowly.  'Elardil was wounded by an orc blade.  He was to go West for healing.  Anoniel went with her love when he Sailed.'

'She was loath to go without seeing you, Mithmír,' Haldir assured her in a quiet voice.  'She wept often and took days to make her choice…  But she did what she had to, Mithmír, and what was best in the end, for her, for Elardil, for you, and for us.  And she always said that she was sure you should follow her across the Sea, one day.'

Mithmír choked and a tear traversed its way down her cheek, mingling with rain drops and the dust of days' travel.  She still hadn't washed.  'I don't know if I can…'

Tirathnavir straightened and brushed her tears away with the back of his smooth hand.  'You will one day, Mihtmír, when you are ready. We know this.  In your heart, you know it.  And I would guess that you have made such a promise to Legolas, though he would never hold you to it if you did not wish.'

His surety calmed her, and she nodded slightly.  'And you two?  You shall Sail also?'

There was a long silence.  Haldir and Tirathnavir looked not at her, and they clasped hands so tightly that it looked almost painful.  Mithmír could feel the hurt and grief on the air, as tangible as all the Elves' emotions.

'You're staying, aren't you?' she asked in sudden comprehension.  The words scared her even as they left company with her lips.  'The Golden Wood is too much your home to leave.  You shall stay here and Fade…' she looked on their faces with concern.  She could picture no fate more terrifying than to weaken slowly in the world till you were gone completely.  A bravery to face such an end, even for a place she loved, was not in her, and she admired them as much as she felt grief.   Her heart ached as she noticed that Haldir was crying silently.  Perfect Elvish tears of fear and grief and pain tracked down his beautiful face.  He was hauntingly beautiful as he rested there in his lover's arms.

'We shall never see the Land across the Sea,' nodded Tirathnavir, speaking quietly.  He was more at terms with the fact that Haldir, who though he had made his choice was obviously scared by the full meaning of it.  'We shall stay here together, in this Wood our home, and Fade away.'

'Together,' Haldir repeated in an empty voice as another tear rippled down his smooth cheek.  'Together we Fade and are forgotten, till we are called to Mandos' Halls.'

And then Mithmír cried also, for she realized that her temporary parting from Anoniel could never be as painful as that from Tirathnavir and Haldir, for when Elves are gone to Mandos' Halls there shall be no second meeting, and friend shall never laugh again with friend under the bright starlight.


	4. To The White

The handfasting of Haldir and Tirathnavir was the most blissful event Mithmír had ever attended; and beautiful as only Elven gatherings can be.  The ceremony was held in the evening under the soothing light of Elven flames borne high by the grey-clad candle-bearers.  The wind played gently in the mallorn leaves, and rustled the hair of those assembled.  The binding was made sacred under the great bows of the eldest tree, and the clear voices that rose up in Elvish songs blessed the loving union.

Mithmír, decked all in grey as the other Elves about her, had only seen such happiness a scant few times in her life; and never had it had the mellow and long-awaited quality given to it by the long lives of the Firstborn.  She nearly cried to see her two great friends find such bliss together, and her mind strayed to Legolas who was so far away.

Mithmír was the last Elf to leave the two lovers alone.  She kissed each of them in turn, embraced them, and whispered her blessings before parting ways from them in the wood.  That night the aging Golden Wood was given fresh life once more by the bonding of two minds, souls and bodies.

***

Time went slowly in Lothlórien afterwards, though there was much joy and merriment.  Mithmír missed Tondfael and Legolas greatly.  Though the happiness and evident love of Tirathnavir and Haldir gave her solace, she could never get the one she loved out of her mind.  Often she would find Brialvastor wandering among the trees, and would talk with him of the thoughts which distressed her, of how she wished to go home and yet felt she could not.  She felt out of place even with Haldir and Tirathnavir: they were never unkind, but they shared something now that she never could, and it left her alone.

Despite her worries, living with the Elves was as blissful as it always was.  Every night there was singing and dancing and talking, all with a great feast accompanying them, and being in the presence of Elves was wondrous like all else.  Mithmír was flattered to find that they all treated her with great respect: many addressed her as _Aratirith_, and all gave her the courtesy due to an Elf.  Many insisted on honoring her in ways saved only for the High Elves, in light of her mother's bloodline, and often asked to catch glimpses of Tegalu.

As for Mithmír's view on the ring she had been given, it was complicated and many sided.  She found that the more she wore the ring the more she loved it; but it was a quiet and almost maternal love; unlike the ravages of her time being in the presence of the One Ring.  At first she had noticed nothing new happening as the result of the beautiful ring's power; but soon she realized that many small events had passed her notice previously.  Any endeavor she undertook with good spirit was fruitful; friendships blossomed; and while she wore the ring – nearly always – she could heal an ill-mood with her voice and calm words which came as if from without herself, though they used her lips to make themselves heard.

Eventually, however, the time came when she awoke one bright morning to know that she had to leave.  A great longing was in her heart, and some tide she could not resist was tugging at her soul and drawing her back to Gondor.

She had expected to have to tell the other Elves of her choice, but to her surprise as soon as she emerged from her room the first Elf to see her, a female, bowed and said:

"Maer lend!"  _Good journey!_

The other Elves all appeared to know as well, and many gave her small parting gifts.  Brialvastor was saddled; the Dúnedain's weapons given a special session of cleaning and care; and bags were laden with _lembas _and water.  Mithmír dressed quickly in her riding cloak and boots; fastened her friendship bracelet tighter on her wrist, and checked Tegalu was securely on her finger before she said goodbye to her beloved friends.

She was surprised to find that they were waiting for her mounted on two white mares.  Tirathnavir laughed at her look of shock.

"Did you think we would not come to _your _wedding, Mithmír?  Did you really assume that we should be so heartless?  Haldir, we have a worse reputation than we know!"

Mithmír smiled with excitement and mounted Brialvastor quickly.  "You ride with me?" she gasped.  "You ride with me to Gondor?"

Haldir nodded.  "Of course, Rochiwen.  We will not have you be lonely; and we wish to see your wedding – and also meet Legolas again.  I have only met him briefly, and Tirathnavir has been in his company even less, I believe.  If you will have our company, lady, we would ride with you, yes."

To her surprise, Mithmír found that she was nearly crying with joy.  "Of course!  I should be honoured to have your company…"

The handfasted couple smiled to her.  "Then we ride after you, Mithmír.  Lead the way.  We can keep your speed.  These mares, Dregaú and Gailind, can travel easily as fast as your stallion."

Mithmír grinned and quickly rearranged her weapons: _Celebdîn _strapped to Brialvastor's side but easily in her reach; her bow on her back; her daggers at her waist.  Finally she twisted one hand in Brialvastor's mane and called out:

"Navaer, Lothlórien, malthen-taur!"  And then, after a pause, and to her friends this time,  "Noro avorri!"  _Farewell, Lothlórien, golden-wood!  Ride fast!_

And then the three riders and their steeds were away; and soon their galloping hooves were heard in the Golden Wood no more.  Instead, they were travelling over the downs South, towards the White City of Gondor.


End file.
